


Improvisation

by EveTen



Series: All The World's A Stage [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I am not a health care worker so take all medical discussions with a grain of salt guys, Injury, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Recovery, Sketchy medical talks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveTen/pseuds/EveTen
Summary: Peter Parker's life has been turned upside down, inside out, and curb stomped.  Everyone he's ever loved is gone and it was really all his fault.  If he'd just been better, stronger, smarter, faster everything would have been fine.  But he wasn't.  He wasn't good enough and now he's alone.Well, mostly alone.  He's been taken to Tony Stark's Avengers facility and given medical treatment.  Probably to stand trial.As always, things don't go the way Peter expects them to go.--------It's important to note that this is a sequel to previous work and will make very little sense without having read that work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I'm back with more trash.
> 
> Couple of things to note: This is a sequel and it's not going to make sense without reading the first work so I definitely recommend reading the prequel first. All medical diagnoses and such talked about in this work are most likely total BS and are the results of some time with Google so. Yeah. Also, please note that, as of publication, the major character death tag applies to deaths in OMfT, not Improvisation.
> 
> Another thing to note is that I'm experimenting with writing Peter with a stutter. I'm going to, eventually, roll it back via speech therapy later on in the story but I really wanted to try it. If that bothers you, I'm sorry.
> 
> Last thing: I was originally not going to publish this until it was finished but this story, barely four chapters in at the time of publication, is already as long as the first so...I figured that I'm not gonna be finished with it for a while and decided to just go ahead and publish it.

“So, tell me again _why_ we have a small, very badly hurt teenage boy in our medical wing?”

Tony wearily looked over at his wife. “He’s enhanced and has _literally_ no where else to go. I can’t exactly drop him at the nearest bus stop and wish him well.”

Pepper sighed. “That’s not what I’m suggesting and you know that. I just…there’s no other family?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Both parents are dead and so are his uncle and aunt. Grandparents on both side died decades ago and had no siblings.”

“And you said his aunt just died?”

“Yes. Killed by one Adrian Toomes. Nicknamed the Vulture, he was the leader of a ring of Chitauri weapons smuggling ring that the small teenage boy, as you called him, in the other room was in the process of dismantling. The incident in D.C.? That was them. Tangentially.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow in question. “Tangentially?”

Tony massaged his temple. “Yeah. The kid got his hands on a piece of tech that, when exposed to radiation, was explosive. He and a friend of his were trying to study it, I guess, and the friend took it with him to visit the monument. He passed it through the security scanner, which primed it, and it then exploded in the elevator. The elevator held together for a bit and then it fell. Two students, the friend and another girl, and their teacher died.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. Kid took it hard. Blames himself.”

Pepper scoffed. “Oh, a newbie superhero blaming himself for everything that went wrong in an accident despite said superhero not _actually_ being directly responsible? Not giving themselves a break for not being perfect and always foreseeing everything that could go wrong? Shocking. I’ve never had to deal with this before.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m terrible.”

“No, you’re not terrible. You just take things to heart too easily. It’s not the worst character trait in the world, hon.”

Tony shook his head. “Anyway, enough about me. Back to the kid. So, as it turns out, the girl in the elevator was the Vulture’s daughter. He was angry because of his daughter’s death and blamed the kid, Spider-Man, for it. So he tracked him down, discovered his identity, and then killed his aunt. The two fought, pretty viciously for a 15 year old in my opinion, and the Vulture ended up comatose. I came in, picked the kid up, and here we are.”

“So, the kid’s here. How long is he here _for_?”

Tony cleared his throat. “Uh, well, honey, I was hoping to talk to you about that.”

Pepper stared at Tony, deadpan. “Tony, he’s not a _dog_.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“You can’t just pick a child up off the street and say “oh, this is mine now” without a care!”

“I’m not! I’ve already gotten in touch with Keller and he says that we actually stand a pretty decent chance of getting custody, especially since we’re married.”

“Tony, my god, we got married three days ago! Now you want to bring a kid in?”

“What do you want me to do, Pep? I can’t just let him go, he’s _Spider-Man_ , he’s hurt and alone, possibly dangerous, and he’s my responsibility—“

“How is he your responsibility?”

Tony was silent for a moment before he began. 

“When, uh, when everything with Rogers and the others fell apart I did some recon on other potential allies. Spider-Man was one of them. I had the opportunity to figure out who he was and approach him but I, uh, I didn’t. I thought that we’d work our problems out and that bringing in an outsider might have made things worse so I didn’t. I thought it wasn’t my problem. I let a, god, 14 year old, at the time, fling himself off of buildings and in front of cars because I was too wrapped up in my own shit.”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, remember what I said about taking things to heart? That applies here. What happened with this kid…it isn’t your fault.”

He nodded and she rubbed his back. They stared through the glass at the still sleeping boy. He had stayed awake long enough to tell Tony his story and to drink some water but had fallen asleep again shortly after.

Pepper cleared her throat. “Well, if you really want to do this, I can support it. You know I’ve never been opposed to kids and this one in particular seems to have fallen into our laps. If you think that _you_ can handle this and that _we_ ,” she gestured between the two of them, “can handle this then I think _I_ can handle it. You said Keller is willing to go to bat on this for us?”

Tony nodded. “We’ll have to do some interviews, a home study, maybe do some child proofing. Mainly just the alcohol.”

“And the Accords and Ross?”

“They don’t, and won’t, know that he’s Spider-Man. Not at least until the kid is something of an adult.”

Pepper hummed. “If you’re sure. Should we stay in New York? I don’t think having him move all the way to California after the death of his only remaining family is a good idea.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Better to keep him in a familiar environment.”

“I’ll ask Micah to start on finding some family friendly housing options. Can’t have us living in a bachelor pad.”

“I thought that might be the best thing to do too.”

“I’ll also have Nora in PR try and keep us out of the news for as long as possible.”

“Sounds good.” Tony smiled at her.

She kissed him and laid her head on his shoulders. She turned her gaze back to the boy, Peter.

“He even looks a bit like you. Coloring is the same; the nose, chin, and mouth are pretty similar. The cheeks are really the only obvious difference. Well, that and the jawline. He has a surprisingly sharp jawline for a young boy.”

“He’s pretty solidly built too. A bit on the thin side but he’s basically all muscle. We’re pretty sure the enhancement is responsible for that.”

“Hm. Do we know anything about that?”

“Not yet. On the biological side of things, we’re in the process of finding out. We’ll have to ask him for the actual events that led to it.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine. How badly is he hurt?”

“Some broken bones, lacerations, bruises. He seems to have fractured a bone in his leg and fractured a couple of his ribs. His arm, the right shoulder and socket specifically, are pretty messed up: bones, muscles and all. Helen’s going to come back in the morning and go over everything with the three of us.”

“I’m glad he’s alive, at least.”

Tony kissed her forehead. “So am I. Thank you, by the way, for agreeing to this.”

“Always. I think it’ll be good for us.”

“Me too.”

“I think we should go sit with him. Can we move a couch in?”

“Anything for you, darling.”

They passed the rest of the night in silence, wrapped in each other.

* * *

When Peter woke again, he hurt more than the last time he regained consciousness. The medicine they gave him must have started to wear off while he slept. It was fine. He deserved it anyway.

He tried to sit up but the pain in his chest, arm, and leg, prevented it. He collapsed back down onto his pillow and grimaced. His arm hurt more than it did the night he ripped it out of its socket, something he hadn’t thought possible, and even the slight impact with the pillow hurt.

He sighed and shut his eyes again. He didn’t want to be in this place. He didn’t want to be away from his home; from May.

He wanted to be in the ground beside her and Ben. That was all he wanted.

He laid there for a moment before he realized the he could hear two heartbeats near him. He could only barely make them out over the sound of his own but they were there. To his right.

He opened his eyes and turned his head. Mr. Stark, _the Tony Stark_ , was asleep on a small couch that hadn’t been there the last time Peter woke up. Laying against him, atop his chest, was _the Pepper Potts_.

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts spent the night watching over him. They moved a couch in to the medical wing to stay with him.

Peter…wasn’t sure what to do with that. So he didn’t do anything with it. He turned his head back to face the ceiling and shut his eyes again.

He couldn’t go back to sleep but he drifted in a haze. He wasn’t asleep but he wasn’t awake. He was just waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe for either of the adults next to him to wake up and tell him what was going to happen. Maybe for a doctor or nurse to come in and wake him.

He didn’t care really.

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours before he heard a groan come from the couch.

“Ugh, oof. Babe, Pep, wake up.”

“Uh, no. No. Sleep.”

“No, c’mon, we gotta get up. Helen’ll be here in half an hour.”

The couch groaned as the two adults moved.

“Alright.” Ms. Potts yawned. “Fine, you win. Is he awake?”

Oh. So it was time to get up then.

“I don’t think so. Not yet at least. We can get him up in a few. We can freshen up first, I think.”

“Oh, boy, do I need that. I’m pretty sure my morning breath has morning breath.”

“What is it the kids say nowadays? Relatable?”

“Close enough I think. We’re too old to try to keep up, really.”

“Very true.” Mr. Stark groaned as he cracked his back.

They stood and walked out of the room. Peter lay on his bed for a few minutes, eyes still shut, until he heard them walk back in.

“It’s nice to feel like a human again.”

“It really is. Helen should be here soon, right? Do you want to wake him up?”

“Yeah. I got him.”

And then there was a hand on his right arm. It felt rough and calloused so Peter assumes it was Mr. Stark’s. Mr. Stark very gently shook Peter’s lower arm, carefully as to not aggravate Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey, kid, it’s time to wake up. Come on, up and at ‘em.”

Peter, with more effort than he felt should have been necessary, managed to open his eyes. The world was a little blurry, his eyes just a bit wet from being closed for so long, but he could make out Mr. Stark’s face above him.

“Um, hi. Good morning.”

Mr. Stark smiled. “Morning, kid. Sleep alright? Are you in pain?”

Peter shrugged with one shoulder. “I slept alr-r-right.”

“And the pain?”

He sighed and shrugged again.

“I’ll have your doctor give you some more medicine then.”

“I’m okay, Mr. Stark, really.”

Ms. Potts, who had been quietly sitting at the couch, finally spoke. “It’s alright to be hurting. I know I’d be a blubbering mess if I were half as hurt as you.”

Somehow Peter doubted that but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m Pepper, by the way. It’s very good to meet you, Peter.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Potts.”

She smiled sweetly. “Speaking of your doctor, she should be here in a few minutes. Her name is Helen Cho and she’s one of the best doctors in the world, especially when it comes to people with enhancements like you.”

That was extremely strange to hear. That word, ‘enhancements’, was so odd to hear in reference to himself and even odder to be used so casually. He wondered how often these two dealt with people like him; people that killed everyone around them. Enough to have a doctor dedicated to them on call at the very least.

“Is there anything we can get you? I can have some breakfast brought down after Helen sees you. If she doesn’t release you, that is.” Mr. Stark offered.

“N-no, thank you. N-not right now.”

He hummed. “Alright. Later then.”

Ms. Potts cleared her throat. “Peter—“

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the door at the end of the wing opening. A woman in a lab coat, Dr. Cho by Peter’s reasoning, stepped and walked over to Peter’s bed.

She smiled warmly. “Good morning everyone. How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Parker?”

He shrugged again. “F-f-fine.”

Dr. Cho hummed. “Well, let’s check and see, shall we?” She started to undo the bandages wrapped around Peter’s wounds. The cuts and bruises that he could see didn’t look too bad.

“You do seem to be healing well on the outside. What about the bones? How are your ribs feeling?”

Peter swallowed nervously. “Th-they’re okay.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He lowered his head and whispered. “They h-hurt and I can’t breathe without-t-t making it hurt worse.”

She nodded. “I thought they might. You need to keep breathing and coughing regardless. You can get an infection very easily if you don’t. On the bright side, I think, based off of the admittedly limited information I have on your enhanced healing, they’ll probably mend themselves fairly quickly.”

She moved on. “And your left leg? I think out of the major injuries you sustained this one might be the most delicate. How badly does it hurt? Scale of one to ten.”

“Uh, maybe a five?”

She hummed. “You’ll have to stay off it as much as possible.”

Peter nodded.

“Now, what about your arm? That’s what I’m most worried about. It doesn’t seem to have been injured in the fight. Well, it doesn’t seem to have _originated_ in the fight. How did that happen?”

Peter cleared his throat. “I, um, I fell. Th-the Vulture dropped me from r-really high. I fell into a r-r-river but I caught myself by at-t-t-taching my webs to a bridge. It pulled my a-arm out. I swam out of the river, barely, and pushed it back in.”

Dr. Cho grimaced and shook her head. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Peter. I assumed it might have been something like that based on the X-rays. Unfortunately, it healed incorrectly and, in conjunction with your encounter with the Vulture, I’m sure it’s only gotten worse. The only real corrective action we can take is surgery.”

Peter’s heart started pounding. “Wh-what if we just l-leave it? O-or, like, re-break it? Could that w-work?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say but it’s just been too long and the injury is far too severe now. Your healing abilities did their job too well.”

Peter nodded but could honestly barely understand what Dr. Cho was saying. He had no idea how he was going to afford the care that they had already given him but surgery was absolutely out of the question. Peter didn’t have a job or a place to live. Peter wasn’t stupid; he knew that he would either have to live on the street or go into foster care. No one just let 15 year olds live in their dead aunt’s apartment by themselves.

Fuck. Dead aunt.

Aunt May was dead.

Peter was an orphan twice over now.

An orphan that needed surgery he couldn’t afford.

“—we can set a time to do the surgery. I’d like to do it as soon as possible—“

Peter coughed. “U-um, no. No, thank you.”

Dr. Cho blinked at him. “What?”

Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “I have to agree with that, kid. What do you mean by that?”

Peter shook his head. “I-I don’t want the surgery. Thank you for your he-help, Dr. Cho.”

“Mr. Parker, I don’t mean to be rude but you won’t be able to use that arm ever again without surgery. You can barely use it now and it’s only going to get worse as the tissue tries to repair itself. You need surgery.”

Peter lowered his head and shook it.

Mr. Stark breathed out an irritated sigh. “Kid, seriously, this isn’t something that you can really refuse. You need this.”

Peter shook his head again.

“Alright, listen—“

“Tony.” Ms. Potts interrupted. “Relax for a minute.”

She then went and sat beside Peter. “Peter, honey, can you look at me? Please?”

Slowly, hesitantly, he did so.

“Why do you not want the surgery? What’s the problem?”

Peter stayed silent. He didn’t really want to admit what the issue was, especially to the three people in the room with him.

“Can you please answer me?”

She looked so earnest, so genuine, it was hard to refuse.

“Peter, please.”

Fuck, her eyes, her eyes! They looked just the same as May’s did whenever she would try to get him to talk to her, like all she wanted for him was the best in the world, and—

“I-I can’t afford it.” He whispered softly.

Ms. Potts brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I can’t af-f-ford the surgery. I don’t th-think I can af-f-ford what you’ve already done.” He said roughly.

The three adults looked at him incredulously for a moment before Mr. Stark chuckled.

“Kid, are you serious?”

Peter’s face burned. “I-I’m sorry, I just can’t—“

He held a hand up. “We’re not _charging_ you for anything kid. I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear.”

Ms. Potts smiled. “Don’t worry about that, Peter. Really. We’re not going to make you pay for something you need.”

Peter was confused. “Wh-what?”

Mr. Stark pulled a chair closer to his bed and sat. “You’re all set, kid. All this,” he gestured to Peter and the room, “is totally free. So don’t stress about that. Now, can we make a time for this surgery?”

They weren’t making him pay for this? Why? That didn’t make sense. Peter was fairly certain his insurance, if he still had any, wouldn’t cover everything. Peter just couldn’t—

Dr. Cho finally spoke again. “This is a service I provide for Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker. You don’t have to do anything but recover.”

Very slowly, still unsure about _why_ they would do this, Peter nodded.

“So, for the time, I was thinking Monday. I’m hopeful that two days should give your healing time to work on the rest of your body and you should, again, _hopefully_ , be fit for surgery by then. If not, we can just reschedule. Does that sound okay?”

“Um, y-yes. It sounds good.”

Dr. Cho smiled. “Wonderful. Now, if you’ll give me just a few moments to check a few more things, I can grab some pain relievers for you and we can get you out of here.”

She fiddled around with Peter’s IV, removed it, and refitted his bandages. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts observes from a distance as she went about doing what she needed to and only spoke when she left to retrieve Peter’s medicine.

“Just so you’re aware,” Mr. Stark said, “we have a room set up for you here. I sent someone down to the city to grab some of your stuff from your apartment too.”

Peter blinked. “Um, I—“

“And don’t worry about the legal side of things either,” he continued, “I’ve got people handling all sides of that.”

“Mr. Stark, I—“

Unfortunately, Mr. Stark seemed to have Peter’s habit of rambling. “We’re working on getting temporary guardianship for one or both of us so that shouldn’t—“

“Mr. Stark!”

He stopped and looked at Peter curiously. Ms. Potts gave Peter a small, commiserating smile.

“What, kid?”

Peter swallowed. “I-I just, um, I don’t know what’s going on. Wh-why you’re doing this.”

Peter shrugged and looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I-I’m just some k-kid. You don’t need to do all this.”

At that, both Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts sighed and, in sync, moved so that they could sit on either side of Peter.

“Peter,” Mr. Stark began, “you’re right. I- _we_ don’t have to do anything. We want to.”

Ms. Potts spoke up. “We really want to help. Will you let us?”

Peter couldn’t _breathe_. He didn’t, he couldn’t, believe that these two amazing and powerful people even noticed him let alone want to help him like this. Guardianship was weighty. It was a kind of commitment that strangers just didn’t make.

He couldn’t understand this. He wasn’t worthy of it.

Did they want something? He didn’t have anything more to give.

“Breathe, kid.”

He tried and tried but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t—

Mr. Stark grabbed his hand gently. Ms. Potts grabbed the other.

“Feel that? Focus on that. Focus on my voice. Just our hands and my voice. Can you try and breathe with me? In for one, two, three, four. Out for one, two, three, four. I know it hurts but try your best.” Mr. Stark instructed.

Oddly enough, the contact helped. They anchored Peter more than he expected. After a few repetitions, Peter found himself breathing easier.

“Better?”

Peter nodded.

They both smiled.

“Do you think we can try? Would that be okay?” Ms. Potts asked.

Peter nodded. “Y-yeah. I guess.”

Some tension seemed to leave Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts.

“Wonderful,” Ms. Potts said, “when Helen gets back we can go upstairs to the residential wing.”

“We have our own wing in the residential wing too.” Mr. Stark winked at him.

Peter smiled hesitantly.

The door that Dr. Cho left from opened again and she walked in carrying two small bags. When she reached Peter’s bed she handed them to Mr. Stark.

“One of those bags contains pain relievers and sleeping pills specially made for Mr. Parker. Make sure you take them as the instructions dictate. I based it off of the research we had from Captain Rogers so they’re quite strong. Now, Mr. Parker’s metabolism is actually quite a bit more powerful than the captain’s so I couldn’t just use what we still have on hand.”

She turned to gaze at Peter. “That brings me to my next point. You, Mr. Parker, are actually severely malnourished.”

Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wh-what do you mean? May always made sure I had plenty to eat and I’ve always tried to eat—“

Dr. Cho shook her head and interrupted. “You haven’t really felt full since your change in physiology have you?”

Peter hesitated but nodded. “I just figured that it was just part of the mutation.”

“It is but that’s because you require substantially more to eat than a normal human. More than Captain Rogers even.”

“So what’s that mean, Helen?” Mr. Stark asked.

“The second bag contains a nutritional mix that I had made on a rush order; he needs a pack a day until you run out. It should help to get him to where he needs to be. I’ll be checking on him periodically over the next few months and, hopefully, when we get to the end of that supply we’ll be able to take him off of it. After that, all you’ll need to do is make sure he eats _at least_ triple the suggested serving size of whatever he wants to eat. If you go out to dinner, for example, and he gets a steak and baked potato make sure that he gets three steaks and three potatoes. That’s a _minimum_ but more than that wouldn’t be amiss. Is that clear?”

She pointed at all three of them in turn. Everyone nodded.

“I understand that that might not always be feasible but it’s important that you, all of you, pay attention to it. Just try to make sure he gets enough to eat.”

She smiled. “That’s all for me right now. Let me grab Peter a wheelchair and you can take him up.”

“A wheelch-ch-chair?” Peter questioned.

Dr. Cho nodded. “Just through tomorrow, I hope. I think your leg will probably be healed enough for you to walk on your own. It’s important for you to try and move around on your own to keep infection from setting in in your lungs and chest. On Sunday morning you’ll be free of it.”

“B-but I—“

Mr. Stark tutted. “Ah, nope, no arguing with the doctor.”

“That’d be a first from you, Stark.”

“Helen! You wound me.”

Dr. Cho snorted and walked to a closet on the opposite wall. She retrieved an admittedly plush looking wheelchair that Peter was sure was the most expensive kind you could get.

“Mr. Stark? Do you think you could help me get him in to the chair?” Dr. Cho asked.

“Th-that’s okay. I can do it.” Peter said.

“Nope, sorry. No can do, kid. Let the adults help. Pep, will you hold it in place?” Ms. Potts nodded.

Before Peter could protest anymore he was being very carefully maneuvered off the bed and into the chair. The movement made his ribs and his leg scream out in pain once but was, for the most part, fairly painless. It was just really, _ridiculously_ , embarrassing.

“Pep and I will get you changed when we get to your room. You won’t have to deal with the gown much longer.” Mr. Stark offered.

Oh god, please, no.

Dr. Cho cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll leave you all to it. I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Parker.”

And with that, Dr. Cho was gone.

Ms. Potts grasped Peter’s good should and gently squeezed. “What do you say we go see your room?”

Peter nodded. “O-o-okay.”

Mr. Stark took Ms. Potts place behind Peter and pushed him out of medical.

Peter wasn’t sure he was ready for whatever was on the other side of the medical wing’s doors. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be ready for anything anymore.

Not without Aunt May.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this. Just so you all know, I'm starting this story at a much slower pace than my others. These first six chapters cover the same three-ish day period. There's not a whole lot going on, really, but it's meant to build the foundation of the relationship between Peter, Tony, and Pepper. After chapter six the pace and time span will quicken and expand considerably.
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter’s room was, objectively, amazing.

After being wheeled out of medical and through the Avengers compound to the residential wing, Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts brought him through a set of sliding double doors. They pointed out a variety of things along the way: communal areas like the dining room and kitchen, the different exits that led to parts of the facility, and even where some other Avengers stay.

At the end of the simple tour was another set of doors that led to Mr. Starks private wing.

“This where we stay while we’re here and where my private lab is located. It also has its own kitchen, dining room, living room, all that stuff.” Mr. Stark explained after they entered.

They made their way through the living space and came to a stop in a hallway with three doors; one on each side and directly in front of them.

“The door in front of you is a storage closet,” Ms. Potts explained, “the one on the left is ours and the one on the right is yours.”

“You’re always welcome in our room but just make sure to knock first.” Mr. Stark offered. “We’ll do the same for you.”

Peter nodded silently.

“Now,” Ms. Potts said with a smile, “are you ready to see your room?”

Peter nodded again.

“Fair warning, I had to do some guess work on how you might like it furnished. We can change things around if you don’t like it.”

“I-I’m sure it’s f-f-fine.” Peter rasped.

Ms. Potts smiles again. “Ready? Tony, can you get him through the door?” She asked as she opened the door and stepped in.

“Yeah, it’s plenty wide enough for the chair.”

Again, Peter’s room was amazing. He was honestly floored by how awesome it was and how much attention to detail they put into it. All of Peter’s favorite things were included and somehow organized into a cohesive theme. They put up Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, and some paraphernalia of Peter’s favorite bands was scattered around the room too. They had models and toys, three different gaming systems set up below a huge flat screen TV opposite his bed, a tricked out desktop _and_ a laptop, and tons of Lego sets.

There were floor to ceiling windows, a desk that the computers were sat on and an open one that Peter thought might be more like a workbench, a private bathroom with a separate bath and shower, a huge walk-in closet, and a massive California king bed.

The room was themed in tasteful reds and blues.

It was everything he ever dreamed of having. It really was.

But when Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts asked if he liked it, if he thought it would be okay, Peter just shrugged. It was fine. It was great.

It was much better than the dumpster he thought he’d have to sleep next to when he left whatever foster home he was going to be put in when he first woke up. He was grateful, so grateful, for what Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts had done for him. What they were _doing_ for him.

It was just... _hard_ for Peter to be hyped up or excited about anything anymore.

Mr. Stark whispered to him. “We can change anything you don’t like.”

Peter shook his head. “It’s great. It’s awesome.”

The two looked at him with obvious concern etched on their faces.

“Really. I-I’m so grateful to you, really. Thank you.”

Mr. Stark smiled tightly. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Do you want to get changed? We stocked your closet but we had to guess on your sizing.”

“I-I’m sure it’ll be great. Thank you.”

Peter wheeled himself away from Mr. Stark, with some difficulty seeing as how he had one working arm and leg, and into the closet. It was a huge closet, like nearly the size of his living room, and Peter honestly wasn’t when and where he would wear all of these clothes.

He wasn’t sure where to start. All of the brands were unfamiliar and seemed to be really, really expensive. He must have looked as lost as he felt, though, because Ms. Potts walked in to help him. She opened a drawer on the left, underneath the hanging shirts and hoodies, and pulled out a light blue v-neck. She crossed over to the other side, opened another drawer that was underneath the hanging dress pants, and pulled out a dark pair of sweatpants. She handed them to Peter.

“This are the softest and most loose fitting things we got for you. Hopefully they won’t be uncomfortable.”

They were _extremely_ soft. Peter hadn’t known that clothes could be this soft.

“Th-they feel great.” He said.

Ms. Potts smiled. “Good. Give me just a second.”

She turned around and went to the drawers opposite Peter and the door. She opened two that were directly beside each other and, to Peter’s mortification, pulled out a pair of boxers and some socks. She handed those to Peter as well.

“I thought you might want these as well.” She smiled and Peter was sure his face was bright red. She was right, of course, because he had been naked underneath the gown since they started working on him. It was gross.

“Thank you.”

She ruffled his hair gently. “Of course.”

She looked up at Mr. Stark who was standing in the door way. “Can you help him get changed?”

Oh no.

“N-no, that’s ok-k-kay. I can do it.”

Mr. Stark cleared his throat and approached Peter’s right side. “No offense, kid, but you can’t use one arm, you can’t bend down, and you have a cast on your leg. Dressing is going to be near impossible by yourself. I promise I’ll be respectful. Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“R-really, it’s okay—“

“Peter, honey,” Ms. Potts interrupted, “it’s okay to need help. I’ll step outside so you can get changed.”

Peter lowered his head and stared at his lap.

“Alright,” Mr. Stark clapped his hands, locked the wheels on the chair, and moved Peter’s pile of clothes to the large ottoman that was in the center of the room “let’s get that gown off. Can you scoot to the edge of the chair?”

Peter nodded and very carefully used his arms and hips to scoot forward. His ribs protested a bit but no where near as badly as they would have if he had tried to bend forward. His leg didn’t hurt to awfully either, thankfully.

Once he was far enough up, Mr. Stark stepped behind him and quickly undid the gown. It didn’t quite fall off of Peter’s shoulders but then Mr. Stark helped to pull it off of Peter. As soon as it was off, Peter moved his good hand to cover himself. Mr. Stark was very carefully and very pointedly keeping his gaze off of Peter. He grabbed Peter’s new boxers.

“So, I’m gonna get these on your legs and up to your thighs but I’ll have to help lift you up by your hips so you can slid them up. Okay?” Mr. Stark said.

Peter, redder then he had ever been in his life, nodded. Mr. Stark nodded in return and knelt down. He hooked Peter’s right foot through the boxers, then the left, very carefully and with some difficulty at that, and gently pulled them up to Peter’s thighs. Mr. Stark cleared his throat and met Peter’s eyes.

“Gotta move your hand, kid. I don’t want to hurt you because I had to grab you awkwardly. I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head, closed his eyes, and swallowed. “I-it’s okay. I-I’m f-fine.”

“I’m sorry, kid. Ready?”

Peter nodded and very quickly moved his hand. He felt Mr. Stark’s rough hands around his hips and felt him very gently, very easily, raise Peter up. Peter did his best to help without hurting himself and then grabbed the edge of the boxers with his good hand and yanked them up.

Mr. Stark set him down just as gently as he lifted him. “You okay, kid?”

Peter nodded. The boxers were comfortable but had slid on awkwardly. Peter would have to adjust them later. “Y-yeah. You- uh, you’re stronger than I thought you’d be.“

Mr. Stark smiled. “Yeah. You’re a little lighter than I thought you’d be. Dr. Cho’s right; you need to eat more.”

Peter shrugged. He honestly didn’t know how he _could_ eat more. He ate the way he was used to.

“We’ll have to do that again for the pants. It won’t be as bad, I think.”

Peter managed a quiet laugh. “Ye-yeah, probably not.”

They manage to get Peter’s pants on with no trouble and only a little discomfort on Peter’s part. Oddly enough, putting his socks on turned out to be something of a challenge.

“Are you using your spider powers to stick to the sock? Come on, kid, work with me here.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m n-not. I think my foot is just cold.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why you need— ha! Got it!”

Tony grinned up at him. “Alright, almost done. Now all we need to do is get your shirt on.”

Peter grimaced. Putting on shirts hurt before his last fight with the Vulture but now? Peter was sure this would suck.

Mr. Stark’s face sobered when he noticed Peter’s expression. “I know. We’ll do our best. Together?”

Peter nodded.

“Great.” He grabbed the shirt, loose and very much too big for Peter.

“This is actually one of mine. I slipped it in with yours in case you ever wanted something a little bigger. I promise it was washed.”

Peter smiled. “I be-be-believe you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, lift up your left arm. We’ll get it and your head through first.”

Peter did as he said and, once Mr. Stark started to put the shirt on, wiggled his head through the hole. It was a little odd only having half his shirt on.

“I’m going to try to stretch this out, okay, and then we’ll get your arm through.”

Peter felt the collar stretch against his neck. It pulled over his right shoulder and Peter, after having found where the sleeve was, started to move his arm. It hurt, it hurt like _hell_ , and the stupid arm would barely move but, with Mr. Stark’s help, he managed to get his arm through.

Fuck, his shoulder was on fire.

“You okay?” Mr. Stark asked.

Peter nodded.

“Feel better now that you have some actual clothes on?”

“Ye-yeah, thanks.”

Mr. Stark rubbed his left shoulder. “Well, let’s go see Pep.”

Mr. Stark wheeled him out of the closet and into the bedroom. Ms. Potts was sitting on the edge of his bed, typing something into her phone. She set it down and looked up as the two entered the room.

She smiled. “I bet that feels much better, huh, Peter?”

“Y-yes, ma'am Thank you.”

She ruffled his hair. “Please, Peter, call me Pepper.”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark was my father. Call me Tony.”

Peter shrugged. It didn’t really matter what he called them, he supposed. They would still be Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark. Whatever made them happy.

“Do you want to get in bed or would you like to hang around for a bit?” Ms. Potts asked.

“I-I’d rather not get back in bed, i-if that’s o-okay.”

“Of course, honey. I’ve got to take care of some business, unfortunately, but Tony’s going to be here. Okay?”

Peter nodded. He didn’t expect either of them to stay with him all the time and baby him. He’d be fine. 

He’d have to be; he was all alone now.

It was so nice of the two adults to give him a place to stay. He couldn’t ask them to do anymore.

Ms. Potts smiled warmly at him again. “Alright.” She turned her attention to Mr. Stark and kissed him on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”

“See you later, darling.”

And with that, Ms. Potts was gone.

Mr. Stark placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “How are you feeling? Should we get some of your medicine?”

Peter’s shoulder hurt, obviously, but he didn’t want to deal with the grogginess that came with the medicine.

So, he shook his head. “N-no, I’m okay.”

Mr. Stark hummed. “Well, let me know if you ever want it. What do you want to do?”

Peter shrugged.

“Well, are you hungry? You haven’t really had any solid food for a while now. How about I make you some breakfast? I can do toast and…well toast. Cereal, too. I could try to make some eggs.”

Peter smiled wryly. “Y-you don’t have to. I’m okay.”

“Nope, sorry. Dr. Cho says you need to eat so eating is what we’ll do.”

Well, Peter didn’t really care. He hated to be anymore of a burden than he already was but he couldn’t really do anything about it stuck in the wheelchair and with only one working arm.

Mr. Stark wheeled him into the kitchen and set him up in front of the small breakfast table opposite the island.

“Have you ever had apricot jam?” Mr. Stark asked.

Peter shook his head.

“I’ll give you some with your toast. I think you’ll like it.”

With that, Mr. Stark popped two pieces of bread in the toast. He grabbed a box of cereal, Cheerios Peter saw, and poured some into a bowl.

“You okay with almond milk? Soy? Coconut? I don’t have any regular milk, unfortunately. Pep and I are trying to cut out dairy as much as possible. I can get some though.”

“Um, almond is f-fine. Th-thank you.”

Mr. Stark retrieved the milk, poured it, and gave it to Peter. He placed a glass of water beside the bowl as well.

The toaster dinged and Mr. Stark pulled the toast out and put it on a plate.

“You want the apricot jam? Butter?”

“I-I’ll try the jam, please.”

Mr. Stark took the jam out of the fridge and placed it in front of Peter’s bowl of cereal.

“Eat up, kid.”

Peter nodded, his mouth already full of cereal and milk. Mr. Stark, seemingly satisfied with Peter’s breakfast, made himself some toast. He poured some apple juice and sat to Peter’s right.

“Everything tasting okay?

Peter nodded again.

“Well, good. It's pretty hard to mess up toast and cereal, even for me! It’s literally just burning bread and pouring milk on oats.”

Peter smiled and swallowed his water. “Ye-yeah. It’s pretty easy.”

“Exactly!”

They ate in a surprisingly companionable silence. Peter wanted, just a bit, to fill the silence. The silence made him think about things he’d rather not think about. But he wasn’t sure Mr. Stark wanted him to talk and he really, _really_ didn’t want to annoy him. Not after everything he and Ms. Potts have done.

So, instead of talking, Peter occupied his head with Mr. Stark: how he ate, which hand he favored, if he drank during the meal or after, and what his body language reveled about his attitude.

The answers to those questions were as follows: leisurely as if he had all the time in the world, the right, during, and completely relaxed. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to make of all of it. He’d expected Mr. Stark to show some kind of awkwardness, even the slightest bit of unease, but he seemed so in control. Like there was nothing left in the world that could truly surprise him. Peter envied that. Peter had never been certain of anything in his life. He thought he had been certain before, about Spider-Man, but looking back he realized that he really hadn’t been. If he had been certain, self-assured, he would have taken it far more seriously than he had.

He wouldn’t have let everyone he loved die.

That was the price, he thought, to himself. He’d been a little kid trying to play at superhero and he suffered for it. The people around him suffered for it. If he hadn’t been such a stupid little shit about it—

“Hey. Hey, kid.” Mr. Stark lightly tapped the side of Peter’s head.

Peter turned his head to meet Mr. Stark’s gaze. “H-huh?”

“What do you say we head down to my private lab? We can’t really do anything very fun just yet but I think it’ll be fun to have look around. Sound good?”

Peter nodded as enthusiastically as he could manage. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

And it did. He was really excited to see the set up that Mr. Stark had, in all honesty, because he almost certainly had the best equipment money could buy. Peter was positive that he could do something awesome with equipment like that and it excited him.

It was just hard for Peter to express. 

He hated that.

Mr. Stark hummed and started to clear away their dishes. Peter tried to help but was shooed back by Mr. Stark. He placed them in the sink and turned back to Peter.

“We’ll wash those later. Wanna head to the lab?”

Peter nodded.

“Great! Let’s go.”

Mr. Stark took hold of Peter’s chair again and pushed him across the room, down the hall, and into an elevator Peter hadn’t seen coming in. Mr. Stark told Friday, whoever that was, to send them down.

And down they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this! I will admit, I'm not totally sure how accurate my representation of having a messed up arm, a messed up leg, and messed up ribs is but I hope it's decent. I've never been injured or had experience with anyone injured in this manner so my experience is pretty limited. I only know that of the few times I've been hurt enough to go to the hospital, I've always had to have help dressing and going to the bathroom and such. If there's anything you guys can think of that I'm not doing well please let me know.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up everyone it's ya trash boy enjoy

Mr. Stark’s private lab was so amazing Peter wondered if there was any place on Earth he’d ever want to spend as much time in. Peter had seen, in the first two minutes he spent in the lab, at least seven different machines he had only ever seen pictures of and two machines he’d never seen at all.

It was breathtaking.

It also made Peter feel so incomprehensibly guilty for being even the slightest bit happy that he was here. He was only here, he thought to himself, because he fucked everything up and killed the only brother, mother, and father he had ever really known.

_Oh, sure,_ he thought to himself, _you get to spend time with Tony Stark in his private lab while Ned, who would have given both arms for the opportunity, gets to rot in the ground because of you._

Peter felt the tears gather in the corners of his eyes and looked down. He watched the floor roll by as Mr. Stark pushed him to one side of the room. Really, what did Peter deserve? Why is it that Tony Stark and Pepper Potts decided to take an interest in Peter’s miserable life? He hadn’t done anything to deserve something as wonderful as their attention.

The only thing Peter deserved was a plot of dirt near his family.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat and caught Peter’s attention. “Have a look, kid.”

Peter looked up and noted that he was pushed up to a workbench. It had a variety tools and machines atop it, along with what looked like a monitor at the front.

“This is yours.”

Peter turned his head up to gaze at Mr. Stark in an odd mix of gratitude and wonder. “What? What do yo-you mean m-m-mine?”

“I had this put in for you. It’s set up with everything you might need, or at least everything I could think of. You make the webs, right? They’re not biological?”

Peter shook his head.

“That was my guess when I saw those little wrist things you made. Pretty good for a junker.” Mr. Stark smiled.

Peter blushed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Well, if you need anything else just let me or Friday know but I hope I have most everything you could want.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Stark, really.”

He smiled and grasped Peter’s good shoulder. “Let me show you the best thing about it. Friday, bring up a projection of the Mk. III suit on Peter’s station.”

Suddenly a small section in the center of the table, in between Peter and the monitor, slid open. Something lit up in the center of it, briefly, and then a holographic projection of the Iron Man suit appeared.

It was the coolest thing Peter had ever seen.

“This is— it’s so cool, Mr. Stark!”

“Isn’t it? You can interface with it as well. This is one of the oldest models I have so if you want to have a look over it you can. Friday will keep you out of anything you shouldn’t be in.”

Peter nearly jumped at the thing but restrained himself. He was curious about something.

“Who’s Friday? An ass-s-s—aide?”

Mr. Stark quirked an eyebrow at Peter, briefly, before he answered. “Ah, sorry, I should have explained that. Friday is an A.I. I created; she runs the house. Introduce yourself, Fri.”

“Of course, boss. Hello, Mr. Parker. I’m Friday and I’m here to help with anything you might need.”

That was...that was really cool. An A.I. assistant? And Peter got to meet it! Or her, he supposed, based on the accented voice.

“It’s nice t-t-to meet you, Friday.”

“You as well, Mr. Parker.”

“Please, call me Peter.”

“As you say, Peter.”

“Well,” Mr. Stark interrupted, “have at it! I’ll be around if you need me for anything.”

“Okay.”

And with that, Peter was left to himself. Mr. Stark moved to his own work space and started to work on a project. Peter couldn’t quite make out the details.

That was alright though. Peter had an opportunity to get details on an Iron Man suit. He didn’t want to waste that.

After delving into the inner workings of an Iron Man suit, Peter lost track of time. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours but, eventually, Mr. Stark tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Huh?”

Mr. Stark smiled. “I’ve gotta step out and take a call. Will you be okay for a few minutes by yourself?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Let Friday know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Mr. Stark left and Peter, eager to keep out the dark thoughts in the back of his head, dove back into his work.

* * *

The line rang twice before Pepper answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey. What’s up?” Tony answered.

“Hey, sorry I had to leave you guys. I had to get into the city as soon as possible. Nora had a slight meltdown because of that stupid rag _The Daily Bugle_ and—“

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. We can handle a few hours by ourselves I swear.”

She chuckled. “Sure, sure. If I come back to an only slightly singed home I’ll be shocked.”

“Oh, fine, be like that.”

They were silent for a second.

“So, we need to find a place in the city that suits everyone’s needs pronto. I know we have a couple of places but they’re not really “family friendly” if you know what I mean. They’re perfect for constantly working adults with no kids but—“

“Not for newlyweds and their adopted teenage spider son?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. I’ve already started looking at some places, Micah’s come up with some great options, and we can go over them when I get back tonight.”

“Sounds great. When will you be back?”

“Probably around 7.”

“Great! We can have dinner.”

“That sounds lovely. Oh, by the way, Keller emailed me some forms to sign and he CC’d you in as well. They have to be printed, signed, and faxed to DCS.”

“Two things: when did it change from emails being sent to me and you being CC’d and why the hell do I have to use a fax machine?”

“When I became CEO of Stark Industries and because the government says so.”

“The government is stupid. I’m going to have to talk to someone about this. I’ll come up with something better than _faxing_.”

“Of course, dear. Speaking of government, when do you have to leave for the next amendment session for the Accords? I want to make sure I can be home with Peter.”

“Uh, I’m not sure. It should already be in our calendars but I’ll have Friday double check it.”

“Alright.”

They were quiet for a moment before Pepper asked what Tony had been waiting for.

“How’s he doing?”

Tony sighed. “I don’t know. He seems like he’s doing well but I don’t think he’s really dealing with everything. I think he’s compartmentalized his head. He’s only living second to second, not letting his mind wander. I’m honestly afraid to let him sleep alone tonight. I think he’ll have a breakdown.”

Pepper was quiet when she spoke. “Should we have him sleep with us? Not in the same bed, not with his shoulder and ribs the way they are, but we could get a rollaway from the med bay.”

“That...I want to say yes just because I want to make sure nothing happens but I also feel like that’s saying we don’t trust him. Besides, Friday’s got sensors in all the rooms so we’d know as soon as something upset him. Well, if something upset his body, at least.”

Pepper hummed. “I think it’ll be fine. We should look into therapy soon, I think. I think that the sooner we get him the help he’s going to need the better it’ll all turn out.”

“I don’t disagree but it needs to be his choice. We can’t just force him into something like that.”

“No, I agree. Should we get him into speech therapy too? He seems to have a stutter.”

“Maybe. I think we need to see if we, or Helen maybe, can get our hands on his health records. That would probably help us determine what to do.”

“I’ll get into it with Keller if you can ask Helen?”

“Sure.”

Tony could hear Pepper switch her phone to speaker and start typing.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner? I’m feeling like Japanese.”

“That sounds good. Can you pick it up on your way back?”

“Sure, sure. Can you handle lunch for the two of you? And make sure Peter drinks that packet that Helen gave us.”

“Yes, dear.”

Suddenly, Friday spoke. “Boss, you might want to get back to the lab. Peter seems to be in distress.”

Tony started. “I gotta go, babe.”

“Go, go. I’ll call you later.”

Tony hung up and hurried back into his lab.

* * *

For the first few minutes after Mr. Stark left Peter was fine. He was distracted by the power system that Mr. Stark came up with for the suit, an incredible one, honestly, that utilized the very thing that kept him alive in such an _awesome_ way, and that was great. It was just as distracting as Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts and trying to figure them out.

It just didn’t _keep_ him as distracted as they did.

All it took was one errant thought, one accidental slip, and Peter stumbled.

_I bet Ned would think this was—_

Peter’s breath halted. That wasn’t true was it? Ned _wouldn’t_ think this was so cool because Ned couldn’t think because Ned was _dead_.

Peter’s hand started shaking and he let it collapse to the desk. His eyes lowered and were unfocused and he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was think about Ned and how Peter had robbed him of so many things. Ned wouldn’t go to college, wouldn’t achieve his dreams, wouldn’t enjoy his life because _Peter took it away_.

Suddenly, a hand was placed gently on his left shoulder. Peter flinched and drew away as much as he could. The hand left him.

“You alright, kid?” Mr. Stark’s voice cut through the poison in Peter’s head.

Peter tried to speak, nod, even, but failed. His breath would come, he couldn’t make his voice do anything—

“Hey, hey, alright, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re right here, you’re in my lab in the Avengers facility in New York—“

But Peter wasn’t, was he? No, Peter was in a graveyard seeing his best friend being lowered into the ground in a casket because Peter _killed_ him—

Oh god. May. Where was May? Where was her body? What happened to her?

“Peter.” A hand grabbed his and moved it so that it was touching something soft.

“Can you feel my chest? Can you feel my breathing?”

The thing Peter felt was Mr. Stark’s shirt then.

“C’mon, kid, can you feel how my chest is moving?”

Peter, barely understanding what was happening, nodded. He felt the rise and fall of Mr. Stark’s chest.

“Match your breathing to mine. Focus on my voice. You’re here in the lab with me. Breathing is all you have to do right now. Breathe, focus on my voice, and be here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

It wasn’t safety that was the issue, Peter didn’t care about his safety, but it was _May_ that was the problem. Where was she? Was she okay? They couldn't have buried her already, it hadn’t even been a full day since she—

“Breathe, Peter. Breathe with me.”

Peter closed his eyes and he _tried_.

He blocked out everything around him and focused solely on Mr. Stark: the way his chest moved, the rapid beating of his heart, the heat of his hand on Peter’s.

Slowly, almost like the changing tide, the panic, self-loathing, and fear receded from Peter’s conscious mind.

He was so _tired_.

“Are you with me?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Ye-yeah.” Peter nodded.

Mr. Stark, when Peter looked up at him, smiled warmly. “Good. Can you tell me what happened?”

Peter shrugged. “I was looking at the schem-m-m— plans and I thought about Ned.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah. Then I thought about May.”

“May?”

Peter nodded. “I don’t kn-now where she is. What happened to her b-b-body.”

Mr. Stark frowned. “I’m not entirely sure myself. Emergency services were on their way when I get to you and I needed to get you medical attention. I’ll look into where they might have taken her, okay?”

Peter responded meekly. “O-okay.”

“Do you want to go get some lunch? I make a pretty great turkey and cheese sandwich. I can even grill it, if you want.”

“P-please.”

Tony grabbed the wheelchair and walked them both out of the lab.

* * *

There weren’t a whole lot of things that Tony could cook reliably. It wasn’t so much because of an inability to cook, really, just a matter of practice. Or lack thereof in Tony’s case. He’d never really had to cook often in his life

Sandwiches, though, were easy. Even grilled ones. Throw a little bit of meat and cheese on some bread, a bit of butter, grill it over the stovetop for a couple of minutes, and then put the rest of the condiments on.

Easy as could be.

So the fact that Tony’s hands were shaking just the slightest bit and he second guessed nearly every step of the process while he was making those sandwiches for Peter and himself must have been because he was overtired. That had to be it.

Tony shook his head and flipped Peter’s two sandwiches over once more each and then plated them. He grabbed them and set them in front of Peter. He placed a variety of condiments on Peter’s left and told him to dig in while he finished his own sandwich.

When Tony finished his he sat opposite Peter.

“So, when we’re finished you’ll have to take your nutrition mix, okay?” Tony told Peter.

The kid, who had elected to forgo the condiments and eat his sandwich plain, nodded mutely as he chewed his way through his first sandwich.

“You want some chips? I’m pretty sure we have some Lays chips around here.”

He shrugged.

Tony grabbed a bowl and dug some chips out. He poured a few into the bowl, considered the amount and how Helen said the kid needs to eat more, then decided to just hand the kid the bag. Peter took it, somewhat reluctantly, and nibbles his way through his lunch.

Tony let the silence last as he ate his sandwich and the spare bowl of chips. When he finished, Tony left the room to retrieve the bag with Peter’s mix. He kept it with Peter’s other medicine that he and Pepper placed in their bathroom cabinet.

It wasn’t so much that they didn’t trust Peter with his own medicine but more that they didn’t really trust him to take it. The kid seemed to be pretty apathetic towards his own health. Not that Tony could really blame him for that. The kid must be in a ridiculous amount of agony and grief so a little physical discomfort might not be that big of a deal.

Or, hell, Tony understood the way the line of work the kid chose could cause a guy to have really intense self-loathing issues. Maybe the kid thought he _deserved_ to hurt the way he did. Being directly involved in the deaths of a best friend, an aunt, and an uncle would be hard on anyone let alone a _child_.

And it wasn’t like the kid was really at fault for any of it, regardless of what he thought about it. He just…Peter was a kid. He didn’t know what to do with the abilities he got and just tried his best.

Unfortunately, Tony thought to himself, kids are reckless and sometimes that leads to false ideas of invincibility. God, people _in general_ are reckless and get false ideas of invincibility; Tony knew that better than anyone. That kind of thing just leads to mistake after mistake after _mist_ -

Tony shook his head. He needed to stop thinking so much.

He took the packets out to the kitchen and placed all but one in an easily found shelf. He wanted Peter to eventually be able to grab them himself.

He took the one he left out and blended it with some coconut milk, ice, and vanilla powder. It didn’t smell the greatest but he hoped the kid could handle it. Peter was working his way through his second sandwich when Tony returned to the table.

“I know this isn’t going to taste the greatest but you need to drink it.”

Peter nodded slowly as he chewed.

“How are the ribs? I know we were hoping to have the surgery on your shoulder on Monday but if your ribs aren’t any better we can reschedule it. We’re still not totally sure how quickly your body heals honestly.”

Peter swallowed. “I think they’re get-t-ting better. They don’t hurt as mu-much when I breathe.”

Tony smiled. “That’s good, kid. That’s really good. I think Helen was right and you’ll be able to be out of the chair tomorrow.”

The kid smiled, hesitantly, and nodded. “I hope so.”

“I bet. Now, drink your health juice please.”

Peter grabbed it, sniffed it and shook his head. “It’s not j-juice and it smells di-disgust-t-ting.”

“Down the hatch, spider kid.”

Peter sighed and did his best to chug it down.

He gagged just a bit when he finished. “That was awf-f-ful, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smirked. “Hey, I never said that I was able to everything. Making junk like _that_ ,” he pointed to the wonderfully empty cup, “taste good is outside of even my considerable abilities.”

The kid let out something resembling a laugh. “N-nice humble brag, Mr. Stark.”

“The only kind I do.”

The kid smiled. “S-so, what are we doing for the rest-t of the day?”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever you want. You wanna watch some TV? I can get your laptop set up on the coffee table in front of the TV in the living room. The top of the table actually raises up which is pretty nice if you want to do some work or some browsing.”

Peter bit his lip and seemed to think about it. Finally, he nodded.

“Do…could we watch _Star Wars_?”

“I think we can manage that.” Tony smiled and moved them both to the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. As always, if you guys catch anything or just want to chat leave me your thoughts! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys.

Peter and Mr. Stark managed to kill over six hours by watching the original _Star Wars_ trilogy together. The coffee table pulled up to Peter’s chest and, after Mr. Stark pulled up a very comfortable looking arm chair beside Peter, they spent the afternoon and early evening alternating between rapt attention on Luke’s struggles and doing work on their respective laptops.

Well, it was more like Mr. Stark worked on his laptop. Peter spent his time familiarizing himself with the laptop and downloading his favorite programs. It was a little hard given that he only had one hand to work with but he managed.

It was good to have so many distractions. It kept Peter out of his own head. He needed that considering it had only been a day since—

He shook his head quickly as he logged in to his Twitter account. Best to leave that be.

“You okay?” Mr. Stark asked.

Peter jumped just a bit. “Yeah. I just f-f-forgot my password. I got it.”

He hummed. “Alright.”

He was silent, again, and Peter was left looking at his feed.

He regretted it as soon as he started. All he saw were the kids he considered teammates and even possible friends having one of the best nights of their lives while his life was ending. He felt so...hurt. Which didn’t really make sense to Peter because he knew they didn’t want anything to do with him. Not even Michelle. But seeing them so happy just made Peter _ache_. He _wished_ he could be half as carefree as the kids in the photos and videos looked and sounded. He wished he could have gone to homecoming with Liz and Ned and everyone.

Instead he got hospitalized after beating the man who murdered his aunt into a coma and was apparently going to be staying with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts for the foreseeable future.

It was just...it was just bullshit. Why did Peter have to have all of this shit happen to him?

_Because,_ his unhelpful brain supplied, _you deserve it. Your parents were on vacation to get away from you when they died, your uncle was out looking for you when he was murdered, and Ned and May were killed because you got involved in something you shouldn’t have. Their deaths were your fault._

Peter could feel the tears building in his eyes. The emptiness in his chest expanded and started to swallow him whole.

Suddenly, the browser was closed and Mr. Stark’s hand moved from the keyboard to Peter’s head. He ruffled his hair.

“Maybe we’ll leave social media alone for a little bit, huh? Maybe until after the surgery.”

Peter nodded. He liked that idea. He shut his laptop and gave his full attention to the movie playing in front of them.

Mr. Stark stood. “Want some popcorn? I want popcorn.”

“Sure, please.”

Mr. Stark left the room to make the popcorn. Peter, feeling it only polite, paused the movie while he did so. After a couple of minutes of quiet and solitude, Peter, on the verge of falling into the darker parts of his mind, was relieved to hear the doors to Mr. Stark’s private wing open.

“Hey, I brought dinner!” Ms. Potts called as she strode in.

“Japanese?” Mr. Stark answered from the kitchen.

“Yeah.” She replied as she entered the kitchen. The two spoke in lower tones after that and it was a little more difficult for Peter to hear. They seemed to be talking about him, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard them moving about the kitchen, heard the microwave ding and the ruffling of the popcorn bag, the popping of the butter as it melted in the microwave. It was…comforting to Peter. Trying to hear everything distracted him and occupied his mind.

“Popcorn before dinner? I can’t believe this.” Ms. Potts teased Mr. Stark.

“It’s not like it’s very filling! The kid needs as much food as he can eat.”

“Speaking of, I’m going to go say hello. Can you set the table please?”

“Yeah, I got this, you go.”

Peter turned his attention back to the movie. He didn’t want Ms. Potts to think he was eavesdropping or anything. He didn’t mean anything bad by listening to them.

He heard the click-clack of Ms. Potts heels behind him. She walked around to his left and he could see a smile on her face when she sat beside him.

“Hi, Peter. How are you feeling? Not in too much pain? Has Tony given you your medicine today?”

Peter shrugged. “I, um, I drank that dr-r-rink that Dr. Cho said I needed.”

She raised a brow. “But no pain relievers?”

“It doesn’t hu-hurt bad. I st-till have some of the other med-med-medicine in me.” Peter wasn’t lying, really. He hurt as much as he thought he would and as much as he deserved.

She sighed. “Sometimes he forgets things like this. I’m sorry. I’ll get you some and you can have them with dinner.”

“It’s re-really okay, ma’am! I-I-I’m f-fine—“

She held a hand up. “Peter, you have a seriously hurt arm, a few cracked ribs, and a fractured leg. Unless you happen to have pain immunity in addition to your other abilities, I’m pretty sure you’re in quite a bit of pain. It’s really okay to take something to help that. You don’t have to tough it out.”

Peter hesitantly nodded.

She smiled. “Good. I got Japanese, by the way. I wasn’t sure what to get you so I got an order of hibachi steak, hibachi chicken, teriyaki chicken, and beef and broccoli.”

Peter blinked. “Th-that’s, um, a lot. I’m sorry. Any of it would have been fine.”

She laughed lightly as Mr. Stark walked into the room with three bowls of popcorn. “Well, you can have it all. Dr. Cho said you needed to eat more anyway, right?”

“I don’t kn-kn-know if I can eat that much.”

“We’ll just have to find out then!”

“Find out what?” Mr. Stark asked.

“If Peter can eat most of the food I brought.”

“Ah, well, if I remember anything about being a teenage boy I’m sure that won’t be an issue.” Mr. Stark snorted.

“Hush, hush, I want to watch Luke run through a swamp.”

“Yes, dear.”

Peter smiled to himself as he threw a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts seemed to fit together pretty well, he thought. That was good for them.

Ben and May were a lot like that. They had been perfect for each other.

Peter missed them so badly. He missed _their_ movie nights. He missed May and Ben arguing over which kind of salt to use on the popcorn and how Ben always wanted to use the butter flavoring, the kind that was at the movies, and May always wanted to use _real_ butter because “it was actual butter, Ben, you heathen.”

Ms. Potts nudged him gently. “Too much salt?” She asked.

Peter’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure why she—

‘Oh’, he realized, ‘I’m crying.’

“N-no. It’s fine.”

She smiled at him and rubbed her thumb against his hand. “Alright.”

It wasn’t fine, though. Not really. It wasn’t the right kind of salt. Peter wanted the brand of popcorn salt that Ben would buy. Peter always told the both of them that popcorn tasted best with regular butter and that special popcorn salt.

Whenever Ben and May combined their ideas, they always worked out so well. Peter liked those ideas best.

Ben and May and Peter. That was how it was supposed to be. Ben and May together made Peter the best he could be, made the _three of them_ the best they could be.

God, Peter missed them so, so much and it was all his fault they were _gone._

He missed how Ben’s always clean shaven face would rub Peter’s check when he’d hug him.

He missed May shaking her hair in his face when she’d tuck him in.

He missed Ben and May taking him to the park and for ice cream or to Coney Island just for fun and because they could never afford to go anywhere else.

He missed Ben and May being so proud of him for getting into Midtown.

He missed their first apartment together and how it was always so full of love and life and—

Peter hiccuped.

That started the sobbing.

Honestly, Peter lost track of time for just a few minutes. One second he was looking down at his bowl of popcorn and the next the movie was paused and Tony and Pepper were on either side of him.

He felt tears streaming down his face into his mouth, felt sharp pains in his ribs with each heave, felt a hand a piece from Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, and he just _couldn’t stop crying._

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy, let it out. You’re okay. Try and even out your breaths if you can.” Mr. Stark whispered in his ear.

He felt Ms. Potts pressing a napkin against Peter’s cheeks and leaned ever so slightly into her hand.

“Shh, it’s alright. We’re here.” She said softly.

They stayed like that, Ms. Potts sat to Peter’s left and Mr. Stark stood on Peter’s right, for what seemed like nearly a half hour. Eventually, Peter had cried himself dry and heaved his last sob. His vision was still a little blurry from the tears but he could make out Mr. Stark’s face looking at Peter’s with a very concerned expression.

“You okay?” He asked Peter.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. S-s-ss-sorry.”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. We understand.”

“Everyone needs a good cry every once in a while. I think you definitely deserved it.” Ms. Potts chimed in.

Mr. Stark nodded. “Definitely. Hey, why don’t we finish the movie later? We can eat dinner and get you your medicine and into bed, huh? I don’t know about you two but I’m tired. Getting old sucks.”

Ms. Potts snorted. “Damn straight.”

“Oh, you’re not old, Ms. Potts. You’ll never be _old_.”

“It’s _Mrs. Stark_ now, thank you very much. I don’t know if you remember, _old man_ , but we did get married this week.”

Peter, in the middle of a chuckle, suddenly froze. “Wa-wait. You guys got married already?”

Mr. Stark smiled and then walked behind Peter to push him into the dinning room to eat. “Ah, yes. Four days ago. We kinda kept it quiet because we wanted an _intimate_ ceremony. It was lovely.”

Peter flushed just a bit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-t-t know. Congrat-t-tulations.”

Ms. Potts, _Mrs. Stark_ Peter reminded himself, took the seat to Peter’s right while Mr. Stark sat on his left. “Oh, thank you honey. It’s been a long time coming, that’s for sure.”

“Should I be offended? I feel like I should be offended. Kid? What do you think?”

“Oh, uh, n-no. Ms. Potts, I mean Mrs. St-tark, meant she couldn’t wa-wait, I think.”

She giggled. “Sure, sure. Very good recovery, Peter. I should make you a communications intern for that.”

Peter smiled weakly at her.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “Alright, well, this box is for me.” He pulled a box out of a bag that sat at the end of the table. “This is for Pepper.” Another was removed. “And these four are for you, Peter.”

The bag was emptied and the boxes were laid out before Peter. It was _a lot_ of food and Peter really wasn’t sure he could eat all of it. He felt horrible that they spent so much money on him.

“I’m so sorry you spent so much money on me.” Peter said. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Peter, please, we want to. Don’t apologize.” Ms. Po— _Mrs. Stark_ said.

“I-I just—“

Mr. Stark held up a hand. “Kid, breathe. It’s fine. Just eat what you want.”

“Uh, Tony, the food’s cooled. Can you warm it up? I’ll go grab Peter’s medicine.”

“Sure.”

“Uh, can I help? I can put the f-f-food on plates or something.” Peter offered.

Mr. Stark smiled. “Sure, kid. That’d be nice.”

Peter smiled back and got to work taking the food out of the boxes and onto the plates.

* * *

As it turned out, Peter _could_ eat four orders of hibachi and teriyaki chicken and steak pretty easily. He still felt like he could eat after all of it too. It was more than a little disconcerting to find out that he’d just gotten used to not eating anywhere near as much as he needed to.

After dinner and his medicine, they cleaned up and then the Starks helped Peter get ready for bed. Well, Ms. Potts, _Mrs. Stark_ , god, Peter really needed to get that straight, was actually the one that helped Peter get ready for bed. She had let Mr. Stark finish some work up while they got ready.

“Alright, so we’ll start with brushing your teeth. Do you need help with that?”

Peter shook his head. “Um, may-maybe just with the, um, spitting. I-I’ll probably get-t-t it all over me.”

Mrs. Stark smiled. “I’ll get you a cup.”

It was a little mortifying, spitting up in a cup in front of Mrs. Stark, but it would have been worse spitting all over the bathroom counter.

“Now, do you want to have your hair washed tonight or no? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Peter considered that. He probably _should_ but he just couldn’t find the will in him. His hair would just be greasy tomorrow morning anyway.

“M-m-maybe we can wait till tomorrow?”

“Of course, hon.”

She wheeled him back into his room and stopped beside his bed. She pulled the covers back and fluffed his pillow. “I’ll go get Tony and then we can get you into bed, okay?”

Peter hesitated. “Um, Mrs. Stark? I have to, um, u-u-use the bathr-r-room.”

Mrs. Stark stopped and blinked a couple of times. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry! I’ll be right back and Tony can help you.”

Peter’s face reddened. He hated being so helpless, being such a _burden_ , especially when he really wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. He inconvenienced and grossed out Mr. and Mrs. Stark what seemed like every ten minutes and he hadn’t even been with them a full day. They didn’t deserve having to put up with murdering trash like Peter.

Fuck, Peter just wished the Vulture had killed him.

It only took a minute for Mrs. Stark to return with Mr. Stark. He looked a bit more grim than he had when he left Peter and Mrs. Stark and Peter, briefly, wondered why that was. Maybe he looked forward having to help Peter go to the bathroom even less than Peter did.

“Gotta go? Hey, Pep, can you grab the kid a glass of water while we’re in there?”

“Sure.” Mrs. Stark left the room as quickly as she came.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat as he wheeled Peter back into the bathroom. “Do you need to pee or—“

Peter interrupted. “Y-yes, I just need to pee.”

“Right, okay, gotcha.” Mr. Stark replied.

They came to a stop in front of the toilet and Mr. Stark lifted the lid.

“So, what I’ll do is kind of like what we did dressing you. I’ll help you stand up and then I’ll help hold you steady by your hips. You take care of the rest, okay?”

Peter nodded, too mortified to speak.

“Alright, three, two—“

Mr. Stark lifted Peter as gently as he could and Peter put his weight on his right leg and stood. He was shaky, nearly fell into the toilet for a second, but eventually Peter was standing.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter replied.

“Can you, uh, take care of the rest or—“

“I’m good.”

“Alright, I’m just gonna look away, you do what you need to.”

Peter just nodded and moved along. The mechanics of actually peeing were a little more difficult than Peter had thought they would be without the use of his right arm but he managed to make it work.

Those forty five seconds with Mr. Stark were probably the most awkward and embarrassing of Peter’s life but they made it through.

Mr. Stark helped Peter get back into his chair and then wash his hands.

“Ready for bed, kid? God knows I am.” Mr. Stark said as they walked back out to the bedroom. Mrs. Stark was sat on the bed.

Peter, feeling a bit nervous for some reason, stayed silent and shrugged.

Mrs. Stark cleared her throat. “We’ll do our best to make sure you don’t hurt, okay? Try your best to not move too much.”

Together, Mr. and Mrs. Stark lifted Peter onto the bed. They, with Peter helping as best as he could, managed to get Peter comfortable.

“Well,” Mrs. Stark said as she adjusted a pillow behind Peter’s head, “is the bed alright? If it’s too firm or soft we can get another.”

It was honestly the most comfortable bed Peter had ever lain in. He told her so.

“I’ll go grab your sleeping medication. I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Stark said

Mr. Stark, however, sat on the bed beside Peter. “So,” he started, “I got ahold of the hospital where your aunt was taken. They’re holding her, for now, but we need to make some decisions. I know it’s hard right now but we need to know if you want to make the arrangements for her funeral. Pep and I can handle it if you don’t want to. Either way is totally okay but we want this to be your decision. You don’t have to decide tonight, of course, but the sooner the better.”

Peter couldn’t breathe again. “I-I-I, um, I—“

Mr. Stark placed a hand gently on Peter’s leg. “Hey, no, it’s alright. Don’t decide right now. Take some time to think, okay?”

Peter, not capable of much else, nodded.

Mrs. Stark returned with a couple of pills. “Take those,” she said as she placed the pills in Peter’s hand and picked up the glass from the nightstand, “they should help you sleep tonight.”

Peter threw the pills back and took the glass from her. He gulped down half the glass.

“If you need anything you can just let Friday know and she’ll get ahold of us. Please don’t be afraid to get us if you need, okay?” Mrs. Stark said.

Peter nodded, again, but had no such plans. Mrs. and Mr. Stark were already doing so much for him and he wasn’t about to inconvenience them anymore than he already had.

The two adults smiled at him, said goodnight and left. Mr. Stark had Friday turn Peter’s lights off.

“Goodnight, Peter.” Mrs. Stark said as she shut the door.

“G-goodn-night.”

And then Peter was alone in the darkness once again.

* * *

Tony sighed as he threw back the covers on his side of the bed. He felt unsure, almost more unsure than he ever had in his life. He knew bringing Parker, _Peter_ he reminded himself, in to their home, so soon after they officially made it _theirs_ , would be tough but—

He ran his hand through his hair.

The day had been tough.

“I know. Today definitely made me feel like we jumped into the deep end too.” Pepper said as she set out her clothes for the next day.

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

“After more than ten years of knowing you, Tony, I find you pretty easy to read.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I can believe that.”

Tony reached over to his night stand and grabbed his tablet. He flipped it open and started to browse for a decent funeral home. “I just…how do I, _we_ , handle guiding this kid through grief, life, and superpowers all at once? He broke down because of a movie and popcorn and that wasn’t even his _first_ breakdown of the day.”

“We knew this wouldn’t be easy, Tony—“

“I know, I know. I’m not saying I didn’t expect it, I just—“

He shrugged as he tapped on what seemed to be a highly rated funeral home’s website. “I just hate feeling helpless. I feel like all I can do is just _sit there_ while this kid’s world breaks apart again and again. I hate that.”

Pepper sighed as she crawled into her side of the bed. “I understand that feeling but you’re not helpless. You’re helping, we’re helping, in the only way possible. We can’t just _make_ his feelings and his- his _trauma_ disappear, honey. He has to work though them. We can only support him doing that.”

She slid over to Tony’s side and lay her head on his shoulder. “We’ll do the best we can and we’ll have to hope it’s enough.”

Tony sighed. “As always, Pep, you’re right.”

Pepper hummed and tapped at the screen. “We don’t want to go too fancy for the funeral. Peter doesn’t seem like he’d like that.” She brought up another funeral home which was also quite nice but nowhere near as expensive. “Maybe something like this instead. Do we know who he might want to invite?”

“Not a clue. I’m only doing this right now to give him some options. I asked him if he wanted to help plan it and I told him to sleep on it before he gave me an answer.”

“Well,” Pepper said slowly, “that was probably the best idea. We don’t want to just take over his aunt’s funeral arrangements if he wants to take part.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

She sighed and lay her head on her pillow. “Oh, I think I’m done with today. I’m going to sleep. Will you turn your light off please?”

“Sure, sure.” Tony reached over and switched his light off. “I’ll join you in a second.”

Pepper hummed and shut her eyes.

Tony knew he was lying too. He was who he was.

“Fri, bring up everything you think might be relevant to Peter. Parenting books, mental health, that sort of thing.”

Seconds later Tony had more information about adolescent mental health and parenting techniques than he’d ever thought he’d need.

Tony, being who he was, devoured that information till the morning sunlight was shining in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last of my prewritten stuff. I'm thinking we'll be clear of this particular section of this story by chapter 6 or 7.
> 
> Thank you all!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> In terms of an update schedule, I'm going to aim for an update every Monday but it might turn into every other Monday. We'll have to see how it goes.
> 
> You all are the best and I love you!!
> 
> -ET


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